It can't go on like this
by MagicalBlack
Summary: What happens when Holmes takes his addiction too far, and Watson just can't deal with it anymore? Warning: Sadness, grief, drugs and violence. Inspired by How To Save A Life from The Fray. #NotASongFic.
1. Step One: You say we need to talk

I remember the day clearly. The day that it all happened. I remember mentally scolding the weather for being so nice, I blamed the sky for being so clear, instead of the ever lingering mist that was so typical to London, I remember how I was mad at the people for enjoying the day that I… But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was a nice august evening in 1895, and as per usual, I and Holmes were sharing the close quarters of 221b Baker Street, sitting by the unlit hearth. I was looking at the notes of a case I was planning to write up sometime soon, because the statute of the various slightly illegal deeds during that case had run out. Not that I regret any of them. It had, after all, brought justice to one of the more wicked criminals in London. But Holmes was being bored. We hadn't had a case in over a week, and Holmes was slowly growing more and more irritable, and when he finally succumbed to his cravings, and stood up, making his way to the ever-familiar brown Moroccan case, which contents I steadfastly disapproved of. Yet, that didn't stop my dear friend from taking it up.

I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was my Oath that finally claimed its say, maybe it was because of the fact that I was feeling rather prone to take up my habit that made me speak up. But probably, it was but my mere friendship, that couldn't cast another glance at this sort of behavior. And so I softly started: "Holmes, I think we need to talk."

Holmes paused in his retrieval of the box, looked up from the desk where he stored the blasted thing. "What is it, my dear fellow?" He asked nonchalantly, as if unaware of the inner turmoil that I was sure was visible in my face.

"These words are hard to say, my dear fellow, and I know I'm asking for a lot…" I continued, somewhat clumsily as I tried to get over the slight embarrassment this conversation was bringing me. But then he interrupted me.

"My dear Watson, nothing you could ever ask for is ever going to be a lot, after all that you've put through for my sake." He said, his eyes taking on that gentle shine that was only reserved for his dearest, and only friend. I swallowed hard, knowing that he might not have the same look in his eyes in a few moments.

In the meantime, he had taken up the box, and had sat himself on the sofa, the tourniquet already tightened around his arms, making his veins pop out a little more pronounced than usual. Swallowing my pride, I looked him square in the eyes and without further delay, just stated what was on my mind: "I wish for you to stop taking that infernal liquid."

My voice had shaken more than I would've liked, and the dreadful knot in my throat wasn't making it any easier to swallow. My embarrassment was rearing its ugly head, but I didn't back down from the stare Holmes was giving me. Not after I finally said what had been burning on my tongue for so long.

I watched his face carefully as his warm gaze transformed, first one of confusion and surprise, slowly shifting into one of cold understanding, and something else I couldn't quite decipher. "Watson… you of all people should understand how my brain works. How important it is for me to have stimulation, either in form of a case, or in a more… artificial form."

He choose his words carefully, his tone masterly crafted into one of general apathy. Too late to take back the words I said now.

"I understand that well enough, Holmes. But as a doctor, I must warn you of the consequen…" I started to debate, before being cut off by an uncharacteristic yell.

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare claim you understand me, because, dear doctor, it's obvious to even most of the Scotland Yard themselves that you don't, and as for your pitiful excuse for the complaint… I think it's safe to say we both know it's not your Oath that makes these words come out of your mouth." He bit back, his snare clearly audible. The warmth that had been in his eyes, now had vanished for sure. I lowered my head in hurt.

"You're right," I whispered softly, after a while. I could feel his stare burning in my neck, but that didn't stop me. "I say it as your friend. A friend whom doesn't want to see your utterly unique talents go to waste." I continued, in the same whisper. It was barely audible, but Holmes, with his superb hearing, had no doubt picked it up. I heard his swallow and shift in his sofa. "I must apologize, Watson. My reaction was out of line, but surely you must realize that I can't just quit with it for good, out of the blue."

I looked at his face again, seeing a different kind of gentleness in them. A gentleness that even I rarely saw. He was honestly trying to open up to me, but, I just couldn't let it rest. "I can't look at how you destroy yourself, Holmes. I can't be a witness to this." I think I pleaded, but I am not sure of it. The battle of today was already lost however, I realized as I saw him put away an empty syringe to the side, but the war, however, rages on.

"I'm really quite serious, Holmes." I continued. "I lost you once already to the Reichenbach falls. I don't want to lose you to this too." I softly rested my case with this.

"Watson, I'm too far gone, I'm afraid. The urge is too strong for me. It's like a siren, calling to me, while I'm in a dreadful storm, far away from port."

"Holmes… I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm afraid I must put you before an ultimatum. Either me, or the drugs… And please, my friend, choose wisely." This time, I am sure I pleaded with him, and I gazed in surprise as his expression took on a child-like innocence. "Watson…" He drawled out. "Surely you aren't serious my dear fellow?" His hopeful tone sent a thorn straight through my heart. "Quite frankly, I'm afraid I am." I answered.

He looked hopeless in that second, before he casted his impenetrable wall up again, hiding his true feelings from the outside world. "My dear Watson… I'm ever so sorry, and not a thousand apologies can make this up to you…" In that moment, I already realized what his choice was, and so I already had stood up and walked towards the door before the baritone of my friend's voice delivered me the words I wished I never had to hear. "I can't choose you."

* * *

AN: AND I'm back, at last, maybe finally finishing this story and giving it the attention it deserves.


	2. I lost a friend

I could barely believe my ears, even though I had seen it coming. Never before had I expected my friend to abandon me for the infernal liquid, if given the choice. But alas, now I realized that this was indeed his choice, and, furthermore, it was I that gave him the opportunity to make such a choice, and thus with a heavy heart I climbed the 17 steps of the stairs to my room and started packing my bags, wondering where I'd sleep for the night.

As I passed the room where my friend still lay motionless on the sofa I made a silent vow to help him past this. I couldn't let him succumb to this. Not while I'm his only friend. I had just hoped he considered our friendship worth more than his addiction.

And as I walked out of the door, after yelling up the stairs that I was leaving now, and hoped he'd stay out of trouble, I could've sworn I heard a sniffle. But of course, I must have imagined it, for Sherlock Holmes doesn't cry.

Sherlock P.O.V.

For the first time since I was 6, and I accidentally broke my brother's chemistry set, I cried. I cried because I was so infuriatingly weak. I cried because I was mad I couldn't even say no to the drugs, while Watson was on stake. I was crying because I had just chased away the brother I only now realized I had had. As he walked up those 17 steps to his room, I silently cursed each and every one of them for helping Watson get away from me. And when Watson yelled up the stairs that he was leaving now and for me to at least try to take care of myself, before closing the door, surely never to return, for whom would be stupid enough to come back to me (and thereby, it was a miracle that Watson lasted as long as he did, even with his patience, which easily rivals that one of a saint) I must admit, to my eternal shame that a sob tore itself from my throat, leaving me feeling empty and broken, until the drugs granted me oblivion and guided me into the hand of Morpheus.

Watson P.O.V.

I walked out the door and stood in front of it for a few moments, musing on the notable irony that for once it was me hiding my emotions, while I suspected Holmes had let them run loose. But it was too late to turn back now. I had left my key inside, while I now stood outside, with my suitcase as my only companion for the first time in a long time.

I picked up my suitcase firmly and hailed a cab, letting him take me back to the hotel where I had stayed when I had just returned from Afghanistan. I was still wondering how I could fix this mess after I had checked in the hotel, and had gone to my room. The hotel room I had gotten wasn't very different from the hotel room I had had when I had just returned from Afghanistan. Nostalgia took over me as I remembered a time in which I hadn't met Sherlock Holmes yet, nor even heard of his name, which was now unthinkable. Because of our adventures and my romantic drivel as he called it, nearly everyone in London knew who Sherlock Holmes was, and suddenly I felt very hopeless. I briefly considered going to the Scotland Yard, to ask for help, but I quickly realized that that wasn't an option. None of them knew Holmes as I did. And especially since it was Holmes drugs use that caused the problem.

I had laid myself upon the 'slightly less comfortable bed than in Baker Street bed' when suddenly an option struck me…

Sherlock Holmes did have an older brother.

Holmes P.O.V.

I awoke on the couch, a soft breeze and gentle sunrays waking me up, claiming me back from the hand of Morpheus. I sat up slowly, groggy from the after effects of the drugs. But it was worth it, I decided, as now my brains finally slowed down from their usual speed, and I could calmly observe once more. As I looked around the room, there was a slight nagging feeling that I had, but couldn't place. When I looked around once more, I quickly realized what I had first missed in my groggy state. All the belongings of my dear friend and colleague Dr. John Watson were gone. At first I worried something had happened to him while I was in my drug-induced haze, but then I noticed there were no signs of a struggle, and memories from the night before raced through my mind. And I stood aghast in the realization of what I had done.

And it was in that moment that I threw out the infernal things that caused this. I had been honest when I had claimed that nothing Watson could ever ask would be too much to ask, and now the time had come to prove it. For Watson, I would stop with drugs. Even if by now, it might already be too late.

Watson P.O.V.

I awoke as the sound of the various customers of the hotel got loud enough for me to be disturbed from my sleep. For now I was oblivious to the soft ache the 'slightly less comfortable bed than in Baker Street bed' had brought to my leg, as I tried to remember why I was in fact in a hotel.

And when I realized, I wished that Morpheus could've held me in his grasp just slightly longer. But then I realized there were things I needed to do today, and the first thing on my list was getting to the illustrious Diogenes Club.

Holmes P.O.V.

I was wondering if I would ever see Watson again. He had left his key here… And every possession the man had, he had taken with him, which hadn't been many, a habit he still had from those army days that had long been gone. I didn't even have a slight clue to where he might have gone. But then I realized I might just now a person who would know.

"MRS. HUDSON!"

* * *

AN: I still thank everyone who reviewed the previous version of this fic, and I really hope that everyone can enjoy the new version of this fic.


	3. Under Construction

A/n: Thanks for commenting. And again, sorry for the long wait, I've got to admit I'm rather lazy…

Also, a good thing: I've more inspiration for this fanfic then ever, though, at a high cost. A very good friend of mine is disappearing out of my life, so I know exactly what Holmes and Watson are going through.

I think I'm going to reply to your wonderful comments here too, since I don't know how I can reply.

VHunter7: It was the idea to make an unique story. :D. And don't worry, we'll see plenty of both Holmes's and Watson's reaction.

KCS: Watson is the only one who can control Holmes, and they both know it.

Sarince: Thanks for your kind words, normally my English is better, but because I'm busy, I don't have time to really check what I wrote. And don't worry, we still have a long way to go.

Qwerkee: Thank you for your kind words, I most certainly shall continue on this story. And what else are big brothers for, aye?

-- Line Thingy --

--Holmes--

I awoke early, with a strange sense of premonition. Like something bad happened. I thought nothing of it, and entered the sitting room.

I gasped in shock, everything that belonged to Watson was gone. Surely he hadn't fulfilled his treat, now did he? In shock I ran upstairs, but he wasn't there. I slowly walked back to the sitting room, and noticed a note lying on the table.

_I'm sorry, that it has to end like this, Holmes. I gave you a choice and you chose against me, so I accept that choice, with deep regret, and leave._

_Watson._

Oh no, oh dear God above, no, this can't be real. What have I done?!

--Watson--

I had packed my bags when Holmes was drug induced, I think he didn't even notice the fact, for he made no comment whatsoever.

I went to the club, and asked the help of a very good friend of mine, named James Herlines to help me move my things to the room I had rented a couple of minutes beforehand. That night, when I had retired to bed after playing some billiard I thought thing over. I decided that it was indeed a good option to go to his brother, Mycroft, but what was I going to say?

"Hello Mycroft, I have moved out of Baker Street because Holmes didn't want to quit his habit."?

Sure, I can say that, but it would come over in to-good-a-way.

I didn't think long after that, because Morpheus took me in his hand.

That morning I awoke refreshed, and with hope. I doffed myself, and went downstairs to consume a healthy breakfast before I made way to The Diogenes club.

I was just out on the street when I already found a hansom where nobody was in. I waved it down, and got in. When we arrived, I found that I had just enough money to pay the trip. Which meant I needed to walk the way back. And it looked like it was about to rain…

I couldn't be distracted though, I needed to focus on what was going on.

--- Holmes ---

"MISSES HUDSON" I yelled down the stairs.

The woman immediately came storming out of the kitchen.

"What is it, Mr. Holmes?"

"Do you happen to know where Watson is?"

"He's gone, Mr. Holmes, I saw him leaving yesterday evening around five."

'Thank you, Ms. Hudson."

I went back in the room, and let myself drop in my armchair… He was really gone.

No! That can't be! I need to find him!

And then what? Apologise?

It's too late for that.

I can only do one thing. Try to do what he asked of me.

--- Line Thingy ---

A/n: Both are working, but is that good enough? And is anyone willing to be my beta-reader? Thanks in advance.


	4. Being Rewritten

A/n: A pretty soon update…

Don't get used to it!

-- Watson --

I stood in front of the building that Pall Mall happened to be. If someone could help me to get Holmes back in a right state of mind, it was him! It all seemed so childish now, what we did… I… I don't regret what I did. Though, I did regret the effects of it. I hope Holmes will see… One day… I will get him back.

Upon entering, I saw all sorts of honourable gentlemen running about and making way through the building.

It came to me that I had forgotten one detail: Pall Mall was an exclusive club, whereas only members and invited guests could enter.

Nevertheless, I made way to the counter, where a young, obviously new lad was seated, filling in some forms.

"Excuse me, sir" I said.

"Yes, Mr.?" the lad said, looking up from the papers with a rather amiable smile.

"I'd wish to speak with Mr. Mycroft Holmes", I informed.

"May I ask who you are, and which reason, sir?" The lad asked, with that same smile. "Strange…" I thought, "This never happened before… Maybe they had seen Holmes's face so much that they didn't mind him anymore". I wrote it of as courtesy and said: "I'm Doctor John Watson, it's concerning Mr. Holmes's family".

"Alright, sir, I'll see what I can do. I should warn you, sir, Mr. Holmes is quite a busy man" he said, while writing something down. He nodded towards a room in the far end down the hall. "You can wait there, sir."

I thanked the lad, and went to sit in the room.

-- Holmes --

"Only a day had past without my Boswell, and I was already feeling lost" I mused to myself.

Of course, before I met him I had been on my own too, and I've been without him a couple of times for a few weeks, and a few years ago, I had even lost him for 3 years.

But this… This is different.

This time, I am not sure whether I'll get him back or not. I had gone too far. Since I had no Watson, or drugs to keep me entertained, since I threw them both out, Watson while I was in a drugs induced state, and the drugs in an angry fit because of the fact I threw out Watson. So I decided that I would venture out for a walk.

-- Watson --

Sure enough that Mycroft would come, I tried to relax, but there was a thought nagging at me.

"It's our fight. It is our problem and thereby, it is most likely Mycroft can even help. He isn't his brother, nor can he control his thoughts"

I countered the thought with thinking that Holmes would best listen to his elder brother. I couldn't give up on him... Not now it has been so long.

-- Holmes --

Right when I stepped outside, it started raining

"Is this how my dear, dear Watson felt after I left hem at Reichenbach falls? And I just deserted him again…" I thought. I suddenly shivered with cold because of the rain. I was already starting to get soaking wet.

I thought for a second to go back inside, but I chose against it. The emptiness of the room depressed me.

"Come in, Holmes, you'll get sick if you keep standing there like that in this rain" A familiar voice called.

Was that Watson, or were my brains playing a trick on me.

It was the second, but in another way then would have been suspected.

It was Lestrade calling from a hansom. I accepted the offer and went to sit next to him.

"Where is the doctor? It's rare to see the one of you without the other", Lestrade asked.

"He left 221B Baker Street." I said, my voice devoided of any emotion. But that didn't mean I didn't feel them.

"Dear lord," Lestrade whispered, a surprised and horrified look on his face.

"Watson and I fought--" Here I stopped, my voice quieter, "And-and then he moved out,"

Lestrade gaped and stared for at least five minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

-- Watson --

I didn't have to wait long, for after a couple of minutes, Mycroft came marching in the room.

"You wished to speak me, Doctor?" He asked gently, his eyes already scanning over me to reveal any detail he could. "You can't be serious… You moved out."

I felt myself blushing in embarrassment, and look away.

"How did it happen? I know you both too well to know you wouldn't leave the other just like that."

-- Line --

A/n: now they both need to spill up the story. Can the united force of Lestrade and Mycroft bring them back together? Or do Holmes and Watson need to fix their own problems?

Do they even get back together at all?

Find out next time in: It can't go on like this…

Soon on a pc near you.


	5. Also being rewritten

AN: I'm rewriting this story, so if any of you got a story update, it's not because of a new chapter, it's because of the fact that new versions of chapter 1 and 2 have been posted.

I hope you will all enjoy the new version of this story. The plot remains the same, but it's just more fleshed out.


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